Land of the Free
by DLHKM
Summary: Dean is the New World, and he is an explorer of ages past. Destiel. M for sexual content.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. **

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Feverish kisses and pleasured moans.

Uncharted territories are mapped out by wandering hands and hot mouths, bringing a clarity previously unhad-it's wondrous. There are so many observations to be made, so much to learn, so many moans to catalogue.

And Castiel is eager to begin.

Dean is the New World, and he is an explorer of ages past.

The thought makes him smile, because it's true in more ways than one.

(As most things are: everything is related in one way or another, everything mirrors something else.)

Dean is humanity, and he is an angel discovering what it is to feel, to express emotions. To be in love.

Dean is young, and he is old. In Dean Castiel sees beauty and energy; he sees something worth protecting.

Castiel came to Dean on a mission to change him, to mold him into whatever his superiors required. But instead he has become like Dean, a believer in the notion of free will.

So really, Dean is America, full of opportunity and bright-eyed ideas. But he is also America (in this metaphor) in that time has hardened him, has led him to realize how many obstacles he must overcome. And still, he fights.

Dean is America.

In other ways, yes. Apple pie and leather jackets and military roots and family values and classic cars and rock and roll and _justice_.

Dean is America, and Castiel is...

He frowns, because that's when the metaphor falls apart, and he enjoys these metaphors. Enjoys whispering them into Dean's ear late at night and explaining his reasoning as Dean regards him with that fond smile of his.

But Castiel doesn't know what that makes him.

If he began as a European explorer, what has he ended as?

(He squashes the more philosophical strand of him that wishes to delve into the question of whether or not he will ever cease to change.

He doesn't want to change this.)

Dean works him open with the fingers that aren't gripping his hip to keep him steady, and Castiel quivers at the intrusion, his mouth falling open. He welcomes it, welcomes Dean's fingers as he will always welcome Dean.

And Castiel realizes that he is that explorer, but generations in the future. Now he has made a life for himself, now he has found his home.

So Castiel is an American, living in Dean's nation.

Castiel abandons any further thought on the matter when Dean inserts a third finger, which stretches and curls with the rest. He grinds down onto Dean's hand as the fingers brush his prostate, a keening cry escaping him when he succeeds in furthering the contact.

Moonlight filters through the unappealing curtains, and even through his pleasured haze Castiel is awe-stricken by the way it illuminates Dean's eyes, his skin. And then Castiel is counting Dean's freckles, the ones that dust his nose, and remembering when he reassembled Dean, marking him with his Grace.

And then he's moaning and grinding and Dean is flipping him over and he can hardly remember his name-he feels _so much. _

Dean's breath fanning across his neck. Dean's lips kissing his collar bone, tracing his jaw line. Dean's teeth nipping at his ear lobe. Dean's member throbbing as it slides _in and out in and out_, colliding in a mess of pleasure with his sweet spot.

Dean's love pouring through his kisses, the tiny bit of Castiel's Grace he carries screaming out his emotions-how much Dean _loves, loves, loves. _

Dean's lips capturing his in a fiery embrace. Dean's hand wrapping around Castiel's length and stroking in time with his thrusts.

Still the screams of _love, love, love. _

And Castiel _explodes_.

He trembles from the abruptness of it, from the intensity of emotion, from the rush of affection he feels when Dean drops a warm kiss on his temple and rises to fetch them a wet towel.

So much _love, love, love. _

Dean wipes away the evidence of their coupling (but only the physical evidence, never anything more), settling in behind Castiel.

Dean doesn't like to refer to this type of embrace as cuddling or spooning, though Castiel knows those terms to be accurate descriptors.

Castiel abides by these rules to indulge Dean's desire to maintain a "manly" persona. He understands that Dean still has difficulty with expressing his feelings, and has found that allowing Dean to use less "effeminate" descriptors is beneficial to his progress.

Dean has already begun to hold his hand in public without discomfort, and their relationship began only a month ago.

Castiel knows that Dean's lack of doubt as to where Castiel stands with him attributes to this willingness to let his guard down.

And that's what his reluctance to be very open or affectionate stems from: Dean fears vulnerability. He has been hurt and betrayed and misled, and allowing people to become close to him terrifies him.

(Dean is like America in that he's been wronged. He's been betrayed and doesn't know who to trust and his guard is always up, despite his carefree smile.)

Later, when Castiel has collected himself, he shares his thoughts on America and Dean, and his own assimilation.

Dean laughs at the analogy. It's not a mocking laugh, or a derisive one. It's a humored chuckle, one of Castiel's favorites.

"_You_, living inside of _me_?" Dean raises a brow, "Coulda' sworn it was the other way around."

And Castiel smiles and elaborates and Dean takes him again, more slowly than before.

_Love, love, love. _

Because, despite how vehemently he denies it, he is also America in that he is compelled by romanticism.

Dean rolls his eyes at that, but doesn't pull away when Castiel rests his hand on the imprint he left on Dean's arm, staring meaningfully into Dean's eyes.

Dean doesn't shy away, as he had in times past (before they were a _they_). He meets Castiel's gaze, sees the _love, love, love_, and he doesn't run.

"I love you, Castiel." Dean doesn't whisper it, doesn't hide the words away, doesn't avoid the weight of them. He embraces them, embraces the idea of loving and being loved as he has since the first time he spoke the words (and he spoke them first).

Dean is like America in that he pushes past his fears and moves forward, because he has goals to meet and things to accomplish.

"Because I have an angel to love." Dean replies when Castiel voices these thoughts, and his voice is full of conviction and empty of doubt.

Castiel smiles, "You're sweet, Dean."

And Dean only blushes a little, and doesn't shy away from the words.

And Grace and soul chant _love, love, love. _

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**A/N: Semi-inspired by the Fourth of July-bit late, I know. Until next time!**


End file.
